Whisper

"I can't hear you!" I screamed at Good. He was standing in front of me with his arms crossed over his chest. He mouthed his eloquent words, but they were silent.

"Don't screw with me!" I yelled at him, throwing my hands in the air. "What are you saying?!"

He was screaming now. His eyes shortened, and the veins in his forehead bulged. He bent over as the air left his lungs.

"It must not be important..." A voice spoke from behind me. I turned, and Bad was standing there, picking at his nails as he paced.

"I don't want to hear you." I hissed, breathing in and regaining my composure.

"That's odd," he smiled, "you usually do."

"You're doing this," I asked him, "aren't you?"

"Typical," he sighed, "blame the dude who wears red for being the bad guy."

"You are the bad guy."

"Well," he stopped, looking up in the air and hesitating before looking back at me, "yeah, you're right. But why blame me? I'm not doing anything."

"And I should trust your word, why?"

"Cuz," he said simply, "I'm not doing it."

"I have no reason to believe you."

"True, I'll admit that. But will you at least give me the courtesy to explain myself?"

"I really don't want to hear it."

"Aw, come on. You always give that asshole the chance to stand on his soapbox and deliver is articulated and thoroughly-practiced monologues..."

"I like hearing him speak." I mumbled. "He's right."

"Well, please;" he exasperated, "do tell me what he's going on about this time!"

I turned back, and Good was still driving himself into the ground, trying to scream. He was on his knees, and his face was as red as Bad's shirt.

"Fine," I murmured, "say what you want to say."

"It's really quite the simple answer as to why you can't hear him."

"Oh," I mocked, "I'm sure it is."

"You can't hear him because you're not listening.

"Really?" I sighed. "This is not the guidance I wanted."

"No," he doubled back, "not to him. To everything."

"I know Psychology professors who are less vague than you are."

"I want you to think about what you're doing in 'the real world' right now."

"Sleeping." I stated. "Or at least I hope so."

"What is going on in your current social life?"

"Heh," I laughed, "good one. What is this 'social life' you speak of?"

"Think about every person that you talk to on a normal basis. And think about everything that they say to you. You're only listening to their voices."

I stood there, and held my hands out. I coked my head over to one side, and opened my mouth a little.

"What the hell are you talking about?" I asked him. "I'm listening to every word they say, that's the one thing that I can do!"

"You're not hearing everything." He declared. "You're not hearing the whispers of this world."

I cocked my head over to one side once again.

"You're hearing the voices. They guide you in everything that you do. But the whispers tell you whether or not that that's a bad thing. The voices tell you to pursue a relationship. But the whispers tell you why she isn't supposed to be in it."

"Are you asking me to be paranoid and delirious again?"

"It depends on what you mean by that. If you mean to say that listening to the whispers that resonate from deep within your soul, or the whispers that bounce between the leaves and ripple through the clouds in the sky, then yes; I'm telling you to be paranoid and delirious."

"Whenever I listen to you, I just think I'm turning into a neurotic lunatic."

"Well you perceive your representations of your morality to be the good and bad versions of yourself, so I would call you a nut."

"Gee, thanks."

"No problem." He spouted. "But do you gather my meaning?"

"I guess. Listen to my gut feeling more?"

"Pretty much, yes."

I looked back over at Good, and he was on his knees, peering up at me. His eyes and face were bright red, and ears rolled down his cheeks. When we made eye-contact, he quickly shook his head back and forth.

"Tell me," Bad whispered from behind me, "what do the whispers say to you right now?"

"That you're being really creepy right now?"

"What do they tell you?" He pushed. I stopped and breathed. I looked down at Good, and I could feel my face twist in disgust.

"They say that he is not the voice to be listening to."

"And what else do they say?"

"They say to listen to the other voices. Not you, just the others."

"No." He stopped, drawing back away from me. "You should listen to me more."

"No." I retorted. "I'll keep your words in mind, but I'd rather listen to other voices than your own."

"Oh," he sighed, "you'll come back."

"I won't."

"You say that a lot."

"Well this time I mean it; I'm not coming back to you."

"We'll see." He started, walking into the distance. "We'll see what you do with the dark closes you in. We'll see what you do when the sweet tang of sin drips from your lips. We'll see what you do when the voices of this world scream to you in the night, tearing you from your slumber and throwing you down. We'll see..."

I watched him as he faded to white. His words echoed. I looked back at good after Bad had left.

"What have you done?" He dribbled. "What have you done?"